


Eriond

by Righ Saunders (owlrigh)



Category: Belgariad/Malloreon Series - David & Leigh Eddings
Genre: Angst, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-07-01
Updated: 2000-07-01
Packaged: 2018-05-09 16:19:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5547023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlrigh/pseuds/Righ%20Saunders
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eriond finds that he is susceptible to the more tender of the human emotions, but is frightened.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eriond

Eriond lay back on the damp grass, sightlessly staring up at the night sky. A faint glow unconsciously emanated from him. Small stars twinkled, and he could not help but pick out those that had once been housed within Zandramas' body, those that had patched the hole in the universe. 

His glow brightened as he thought of Belgarion and his family. A small smile played upon his lips, thinking of the daughters that overran the palace. They were turning into a handful; nobles from every land congregating in Riva every summer now that they were growing into women. Thinking of Belgarion's face last year, he laughed. Turnabout was fair play. 

A faint noise ripped him away from his remembrance. Turning his head, he peered into the darkness, past the shadowed form of Horse. Nothing. He faced the heavens again, pondering Zakath's continued attempts to force the populace to accept him. _I'm going to have to put a stop to that,_ he thought. _Perhaps a small talk to Cyradis will do it._ Eriond started on a mental diatribe, practising.

"There you are!" burst an angry male voice into his thoughts. He jumped. "I _told_ you not to wander off at night. What are you doing? Dreaming again, no doubt," he ended sneeringly.

Eriond stared at the figure standing over him in surprise. His silhouette was menacing, the voice coming from it rough in anger.

"Where is the horse? Here ... you stupid boy. I keep telling you, _tie him up_. You're going to lose him one day, Rendan, and then what? Father won't keep you on after that. He'll send you to join the army, and you know what happens there," he carried on, grabbing Horse's mane. "You didn't even put tack on him ... ah, I don't know why I bother. Get up."

He stood up, wondering who Rendan was that this stranger was concerned for him. He couldn't let him stay with his misconception. Eriond opened his mouth to say the words.

"Get _up!_ On the horse, Rendan. You're coming with me. Been out long enough," the voice trailed off, then continued more sharply, "you're not mooning after Cara, are you? Father won't stand for it. She is to marry Zoander and you know it. Get on the horse, boy."

Eriond mounted mutely, gripping Horse's torso firmly with his legs, hands digging into the soft mane. The shadowed man strode off, throwing back at him, "Come along, then." He nudged Horse forwards slowly, and waited as the man pulled himself atop his mount. The stranger turned his horse, and then stopped, as Eriond remained motionless. "Boy!" He followed.

They galloped down, until Eriond saw a flickering light ahead. The man before him slowed down, giving Eriond a chance to see where he was. It appeared to be a farm. He saw the fields out beyond, moonlight reflecting from the furrowed earth. Animals grazed in nearby paddocks, horses snorting and pawing the ground. When the man stopped, he dismounted, not awaiting the man's curt order to get down. He heard a disbelieving _whuff_ leave the man at his actions.

The man opened the gate to a paddock and slapped the two horses into it as Eriond waited. He then turned inside, with him following slowly, trying to grasp more of his surroundings. Eriond heard commotion inside the farmhouse, and moved more slowly. 

"He's left?" a whispered, shocked voice came out to him. "But ... "

A man barrelled out of the house and dragged him by his shirtfront into the doorway. He now saw the stranger's face; an angular, hard face, hardness exacerbated by the anger and confusion stamped on it. Golden light played over them both. He was thrust away suddenly. 

"Who are you?" Eriond remained silent, and the man swung around to view the room's occupants.

They were talking amongst themselves, and Eriond heard snatches of conversation.

"... Cara ..."

" ... Rendan joined the army, poor lad."

The man's face contorted slightly, and Eriond found himself out in the cool night air once again.

"Who are you?" the man hissed. "Why did you lead me to believe you were Rendan? What are you doing here?"

Eriond backed away, hands rising apologetically. "I'm Eriond," he began softly.

The man shoved him, causing him to stumble. A blade appeared at Eriond's throat, then he turned away, walking towards the paddock gate. Eriond followed, unconsciously falling back into his previous pattern of behaviour. 

He stood beside the man silently. He looked over at Horse, who was munching happily on grass, trying to give this strange companion of his some privacy. 

"Lansor." Eriond looked over at the man. His face was silver in the faint moonlight. "My name. Why were you on land at such time of night, Eriond?" 

He contemplated the hurting man before him. "Enjoying the night air."

Lansor snorted. Eriond looked at him askance; not many doubted his word. "One could get killed that way, Eriond. Not many that would stay his hand. You could have been taken for a horse thief ... " He appeared to be thinking. He shot Eriond a hard look. "You didn't steal that horse of yours, did you? Horse thieves aren't taken lightly around here."

Eriond shook his head. 

"You can stay the night then. Over there," motioning towards the barn, "make yourself comfortable. Leave in the morning. Father would not appreciate your staying, but since I brought you ..." he trailed off. "Don't make any trouble."

* * *

Next morning, Eriond heard his name being shouted from outside the barn. Coming awake, he pushed himself off the stack of hay he'd used as a bed, and approached the doors.

Lansor pulled them open, eyes scanning the interior before fixing upon him. "Come. Father would speak with you."

Wonderingly, he followed Lansor up to the house, much larger in the morning's light. It appeared well-kept; a prosperous farm, then. Entering behind Lansor's form, Eriond couldn't help but admire the muscular flexing beneath the hosiery. He almost didn't notice Lansor stopping before a well-carved door. Eriond shook himself, wondering at his absorption with Lansor's movements. _Must talk to UL concerning this ... he may know more._

Lansor knocked, then entered, motioning Eriond to follow. 

The man seated at a small desk looked up at their entrance, and focused on Eriond. "My son says that he found you on the land last night. He also says that you are not a thief. I accept his words. You shall have Rendan's job. Do you wish to work here?"

Eriond felt a small ping of surprise. He thought of his sojourn on Polgara's small farm years before, at the fun that he had while living there. He remembered Belgarion's tales of living on Faldor's farm when a child and young man. Considering all that, he nodded jerkily.

"You start today. Lansor." His head delved into the books and scrolls before him.

Lansor propelled him out of the room, and Eriond stared at him. He was looking at Eriond with a smile on his face, obviously amused at his confusion. "Father wishes for you to work here -- doing what Rendan did; round up the horses, taking care of them. Want to do it? I spoke to him this morning. We need another worker now that Rendan has left."

Eriond looked around him, then thought of Angarak, and the position that he now held. He thought about it the problems with the populace not giving up on their terror of Torak, and his small movements towards relieving them of that fear. The image of a mask of Torak above Lansor's fathers' desk burned into his mind. "Yes."

Lansor smiled at him, a slow smile that burned its way to the pit of his stomach. He blinked at him and turned away quickly. _What is wrong with me?_ he wondered. The Malloreon was stirring feelings that he had not felt before.

Outside, he once again followed Lansor to the paddock gate. Horse came up and whinnied joyfully. Eriond sent streams of warmth towards Horse, and reassured him silently. Lansor made a small sound in the back of his throat, making him look over. 

"Lovely horse you have there," he said, eyes feasting on Horse's torso. "You might want to mate him with some of the mares. He would sire marvellous offspring."

Eriond shook his head firmly, ignoring the small spirals of ... pleasure? ... that circled within him at Lansor's nearness. "No. I would not do that with Horse. He is one."

Lansor looked at him quizzically and mouthed, "one?" but let it be. "So, you know what to do? Muck out the stalls, make sure that the horses are healthy, and ... the rest." He waved his hands rather vaguely. "Ask one of the others, they'll show you. Now come, I must show you your room." 

Eriond made out the forms of the "others" that Lansor had waved towards. They were all tall, hard men; Murgos, maybe. He wondered how they would behave towards him, a small man in their eyes.

They stopped in front of a wooden building, a porch and doors along it. Opening one, Lansor motioned him inside.

"Rendar's belongings are still here. Choose what you will, use it, and the rest take to the main house." 

Lansor left him alone to discover the small, cramped room. Eriond thought longingly of the room in the palace, one that Zakath insisted he have. He hadn't realised that he'd have to stay in a small room once again. Looking around, he realised that Rendan must have been a clean man. Nevertheless, he looked at the stained floor and decided to do a little makeover. He willed the room clean, adding wreaths of flowers to some pegs on the wall. He inhaled the fresh fragrance. 

A Murgo popped his head into the room, and sniffed. He grinned maliciously. "Turning into a woman, little one?" He came further into the room, and lifted his hand to touch him. Eriond backed away, and willed the Murgo outside. He heard a curse, and then the fading sound of pounding feet. 

Leaving, he made his way back to the paddock, calling Horse. Horse whickered, and came up to him, searching for a pat and for his companionship. Eriond walked on into the stables beside the barn. Looking around, he found a horse brush, and took it outside to groom Horse. 

The strokes were repetitious and soothing. He brought the brush down Horse's coat, stroking firmly. He was near completion when he felt someone's eyes upon him. He looked up, and saw Lansor nearby, eyes dark with some emotion he had not seen directed his way before. Curls of heat blossomed within him in response to it, and his motions stopped. Lansor spun away quickly and Eriond felt as if the bottom of his stomach had dropped out. He sighed, and then went to check Horse's hooves. 

He attended other horses, and was nearly finished when he heard several men congregate behind him. He turned, and saw the Murgo who had come into his room and his two companions. They looked angry, and at the same time, frightened. 

"You think you are a sorcerer, do you _boy_?" One sneered. Eriond looked at him, and saw the familiar markings of a Grolim within his mind.

"You are no match for a Grolim _boy_. Mithas here" a nod at the Grolim "can rip your heart out in no time and serve it to Torak for breakfast. You are no sorcerer."

Eriond looked at the men, and said quietly, truthfully, "No. I am no sorcerer."

The men advanced, spreading out so as to cut off any means of escape. They unsheathed nasty-looking daggers, and one took out a sword. 

"You can't do what you did to Stanic and get away with it, you woman. You're going to pay." They closed in on him.

"Stanic, Mithas, Galen. What are you doing?" A hard, angry voice broke in. Eriond's pulse leapt at hearing it, even though he knew that he could take care of his three attackers. "Are you wanting to leave your jobs? Perhaps I should speak to Marrick," he continued. The Murgos watched him and the whip in his hand.

"No ..." said Stanic, pulling his friends away. They glared at Eriond, and one mouthed "later" as they filed out.

Lansor glared at Eriond also. "What do you think you are doing?" Eriond gaped at the verbal attack. 

"I was grooming the horses. My job." He faltered at the angry look shot his way. The look changed slightly, a different kind of heat replacing the anger. Eriond gulped. Lansor took a step towards him, then stopped. He reached out. Eriond allowed himself to be propelled along. 

The worker's rooming building loomed, and suddenly Eriond found himself in front of his own door. He stretched out his hand and opened the door. Lansor's warm body followed him in. He could smell his warm scent.

Lansor closed the door behind him and placed his hand on Eriond's shoulder to move him further into the room. The hand slid down his arm, and Lansor turned him with it to pull him flush against his body. Eriond felt flames darting along his body where it touched with Lansor's, and his control slipped a little. Lansor's hot breath fanned his face, then hard lips crushed against his own. Eriond gasped in surprise at this unexpected, but not unwelcome, attack, giving Lansor the opportunity to trace his mouth with his tongue. 

__

Ahhhhh, Eriond thought dazedly, fire shooting throughout his body. He sank in sensation, coming to a little at the feel of cool timber pressed against his back. He felt his grasp on his control of glowing slip a little more, and shoved Lansor away. 

Drawing large gasps of air, he shook from restrained passion. Lansor appeared equally affected, a dark expression falling over his face at the interruption. 

"What?" Lansor appeared annoyed, eyes hot upon his face. Eriond grabbed hold of control and _forced_ himself not to glow. "Why did you stop?"

Eriond looked at him, at the eyes dark with lust and felt another bolt of pleasure shoot throughout him. He restrained himself from taking hold of Lansor and kissing those lips. He _really_ was going to have to talk to UL. No ... Belgarion, perhaps ... though he'd laugh at hearing his dilemma. 

Lansor's face blackened at his silence, and he tore the door open and left, slamming it behind him. Eriond wobbled over to the bed -- more of a pallet, really -- and sat down. He focused.

__

Belgarion.

Surprise. _Eriond?_

Yes.

Hello Eriond. What prompts you to call?

I have this problem. He paused, wondering how to best say it. He decided upon _I have been experiencing odd feelings_.

__

What odd feelings? He could almost feel a mental chuckle coming from Belgarion.

__

Odd ... never felt them before.

He could feel a little concern in Belgarion's reply. _What do they feel like?_

Eriond hesitated. _I feel a burning ... kind of like pleasure, directed towards a man. I seem to take pleasure in watching him._

He now felt Belgarion's surprise. _I ... see._

He waited. 

__

Well ... it appears that you are attracted to this ... (hesitation) _man. As one would be attracted to a woman_ , Belgarion concluded. 

__

Oh. Eriond thought about it. _Perhaps._ He changed the subject. _How is Ce'Nedra and your daughters?_

Ce'Nedra is once again lecturing Beldaran upon proper conduct befitting a princess. She takes turns with the others. One would think that she never behaved in the way in which Beldaran now does. {amusement}

__

Give my regards to them, Eriond concluded. _I will see you soon._

__

Mine to you also.

Eriond sat still, thinking about that which Belgarion had revealed to him. Attracted to Lansor? But he was a God! Gods weren't meant to feel attraction ... were they? He reached out for the familiar feeling of "there" of Horse for comfort. He was confused. 

At dinner, after having had the Murgos horse-trainers make sport of him, he twinged in the most unlikely of spots. He glared at his spoon, wondering why being a God didn't make him instantly invulnerable to such things as muscle aches. 

He felt a familiar form sit beside him, and looked up to his right into Lansor's dark eyes. He shivered at the heat there. Trying to deny what he saw, he looked at the occupants of the table around him. The Murgos sat to one side of the table, and at the head of the table was Lansor's father. He probed. Marrick. 

Marrick looked up at the mask of Torak upon the wall directly behind Eriond, which he had not seen. Eriond grimaced at the reminder of Torak's reign before him, hoping that Marrick would not say a prayer to the now-dead God. 

Then, the hot feel of a hand resting on his thigh distracted him. His head zipped across to Lansor, who was talking to his neighbour innocently. The hand on his thigh was anything but. It inched its way up his leg, rubbing. It rubbed both gentle and hard, then came to rest beside his cock. It strained against his hosiery, and he could barely focus on the plate before him. When the hand wrapped around him warmly, he nearly came off his seat. It stroked him to fever-pitch, taking him to the brink. He was frozen into position, his body screaming to move with the hand, his mind warning him of those at the table. He stifled the moans that threatened to escape.

He gasped when the hand was taken away, and looked desperately up at Lansor's face. His eyes burned into him. He was trapped by the sensual promise there. Eriond released the death-hold he had on the spoon, then picked it up again when it splashed. He dipped it into the broth, not tasting it. It may have been the best soup he had ever eaten, or the worst, but the heat of Lansor's body stopped him from taking notice.

Lansor rubbed against him slowly, and he looked up to notice that the Murgos had gone, and that various others were leaving. He stood up shakily, and let Lansor take his arm. He was propelled through the doorway outside the house. The hot body moved against him, and he lost his sense of direction. Next thing he knew, he was inside his room, plastered up against the back of the door.

"Look at me."

Eriond looked up at Lansor's face, noting the passion in the eyes. He moaned. He strained against his clothing. 

"Is this what you want?" A hand moved on him, and he pressed himself against it. "Is it? If not, perhaps I should stop now." The hand moved away slightly.

"No!" He grabbed Lansor's hand. "No."

He saw Lansor smile just before his mouth was taken. Eriond ripped the clothing off Lansor's back, and when they didn't come off quick enough, willed them off. He forgot everything but the warm flesh beneath his hands and the magic being dealt to him by Lansor. His clothes disappeared equally fast.

His penis jutted, poking into Lansor's belly, as Lansor's did him. He moved his hand down and took hold of Lansor, taking pleasure in the resulting gasp. A growl issued from above him, and he felt the world tip. 

Upon his back on the bed, Eriond felt Lansor scoot down his body and take his cock into his mouth. He nearly came off the bed. The warm heat of Lansor's mouth enveloped him, his head up against the back of Lansor's throat. His throat muscles contracted against him and he screamed. Lansor suckled, taking him deep into his throat, licking, nibbling. He came, Lansor drinking him down, taking some of him into his hand. 

Eriond opened his eyes and saw Lansor spreading his cum onto himself. He watched curiously, and then Lansor flipped him around onto his stomach. Balancing himself, he sucked in his breath as wet fingers touched his arse, spreading him and applying his semen. Fingers slid across his rectum, and then he felt them insert. His hands clutched at the thin sheets. They moved in and out, and then he felt a third finger insert. Eriond felt himself rising once more. Being a God was a good thing. He gasped into the pillow, panting. A blunt object moved across his backside, and then he felt the hot smoothness press into him. 

"You like that, don't you?" Eriond heard from above him. He was settled against the bed comfortably, Lansor turning him this way and that to his liking. "Do you?"

Remembering the earlier threat, Eriond nodded. He heard a small, choked laugh.

Lansor moved, and Eriond screamed, feeling his control go. In a small corner of his mind, he was sure that he was now glowing, and hoped that Lansor would not notice. He pressed up against Eriond's prostate, then withdrew and pressed once more. Eriond took hold of himself, awkwardly holding his penis and stroking. Lansor's steady movements within him helped, and soon he felt the ecstasy coming upon him again. Lansor's movements became more frenzied, and he felt Lansor's cock fill him, taking him to the heights. He crested the wave, and felt his seed spilling over his hand, onto the bed beneath him. Lansor collapsed upon him, and he felt the softening cock still within him.

Lansor's shuddering breath wafted across his back. He drowsed, the warm body against him sleep-inducing now that he was sated. He drifted off to sleep.

* * *

A warm set of lips teased him awake. Slitting his eyes open, he saw Lansor smiling down into his face. 

"Time to wake. Work awaits." The smile upon Lansor's face took the urgency out of the words, the hand around his lower parts postponed it. He rose to the occasion. A stinging swat assaulted his arse, and then Lansor leapt out of bed. Eriond stared at the muscular body being paraded around the small room.

Lansor searched around. "Where are my clothes?"

Guiltily, Eriond remembered willing them away. They were now dust on the floor. He quickly willed a set into a jumbled pile at the foot of the bed. "There."

Lansor gave him an odd look. "I looked there earlier ..." He picked them up and inspected them. "Hmm."  


While he was pulling his clothing on, Eriond lay back and watched, not covering his nakedness. He saw Lansor's erection, and looked up into Lansor's face, wondering whether he should do anything about it. At the closed look he saw there, he decided against it. Sighing, he pushed himself off the bed. 

Finished dressing, Lansor pulled a naked Eriond up against him and kissed him passionately. He opened the door, winking as he left.

Eriond pulled on some clothing, and went outside. The Murgos were still giving him angry looks, promising future retaliation. 

For some days he worked quietly, side-by-side with the Murgos, and by night waiting for Lansor, who never turned up. He despaired, wondering at Lansor's reasons for having made love to him and now leaving him alone. He saw the hungry looks directed at him, those which were not acted upon. One night, he sent out a call to Beldin.

__

Beldin. 

Hello Eriond. Garion told me you'd contacted him. He mentioned that you were having trouble. Something wrong?

Eriond proceeded to tell him the entire story. 

Two days later, a troubadour turned into the farm. His name was Feldegast, and he could tell tales of wonder, and he told falsehoods, too; said Torak was dead, and that his successor was a peace-loving God, not wanting sacrifices made to him. Everyone looked at him cautiously, wondering if the spirit Torak would strike him down, or even the hand of the new God. They commented on the obvious attraction that the troubadour had for the new handler, Eriond. He followed him around, and sang to him.

Eriond looked over at Beldin. "It's not working."

"Give it some time, Eriond. He's lookin' at me like he's goin' te stab me soon. I'd prefer that he didn', ye understan', but he's comin' 'roun'." Beldin, in his Feldegast form, spoke with a thick brogue. He draped his arm around the young God and proceeded to talk into his ear. He appeared to be saying sweet nothings, but in reality he was filling Eriond in about the West's progress. He smiled at times, then by accident caught Lansor's eye. He was angry and stomping around the grounds, black looks directed at Beldin. Eriond shivered slightly.

"Look like it's workin', doesn' it? It'll be time for me to leave soon, Vella will have my head by the time that I get back to Drasnia." Feldegast removed his arm and went in search of beer.

Eriond stayed seated, and then Lansor came over. "You belong to me," he growled. Eriond looked up in surprise. Lansor glared at him. "Don't let that character touch you." He lifted Eriond's face, and gripped him by the chin. "Do you understand me?" Eriond nodded as best as he was able. 

"Good." He hauled Eriond up and kissed him, tunnelling his hands through his hair to keep him in place. He sucked on his tongue. Eriond sank against him, sank into his kiss. He placed his hands against Lansor's back, and then drew him more firmly against him. He pushed his thigh between Lansor's, and rubbed it up against his burgeoning crotch. The hardness he felt there made his own cock grow harder. 

Pulling away from Lansor, he said "This is what is waiting for you tonight," and then walked away. Eriond still shuddered, his hose showing the erection he had developed from the close contact. 

Seeing Marrick, Eriond smiled at him, whose mouth was gawping from having witnessed the scene. Marrick's slack face hardened, and he took a step towards him. Eriond could feel the discontent, the anger, that emanated from Lansor's father. He moved a little quicker away from him, then saw Horse in the paddock and veered towards him. He could hear Marrick's footsteps behind him, following. 

"Eriond," it came. He was unable to pretend he didn't hear it. Marrick sounded calm, contrasting with the emotions he was sending strongly.

He stopped at the fence, where he had one hand on the latch. Eriond turned around. 

Marrick came up to him, body language threatening for all that his voice was mild and his face composed.

"What are you doing with my son?" His voiced cracked, and then he took himself under control once more. Eriond could feel the emotions boiling under the facade, though, and yearned to do nothing more than jump atop Horse and make a run for it. Humans were oddly unpredictable when they were angry.

"Well? Will I get an answer?" His voice rose a fraction.

Eriond sighed. "We ... " he paused, assessing Marrick. "We are lovers," he rushed. 

Marrick stared at him, anger suddenly deflated by the defeat coursing through him. He saw his hopes of children, grandchildren, through his son drain away, and nothing was left but bleakness. He stared at the young man before him, and shook his head sadly as he moved away. 

Eriond looked after the slumped form walking back to the house, and felt sympathy for him. Not that he wanted Lansor to marry and have children ... he wanted Lansor to be _his_ , not _anyone_ else’s. He shuddered at that realisation; he hoped that this was not the track down which Torak went. He hoped that he would not become another broken God like his brother. The prospect frightened him. 

He walked over to Horse, and talked to him in a soothing voice, attending to his needs and attending to the needs of the other Horses. How could he but? He felt small shivers course through him at the memory of his kiss with Lansor, and his arousal at what he imagined would happen that night. He burned.

Thinking about Lansor languidly, he dreamed, blanking out the problems in his relationship with Lansor, his craving to be near him, his ... love? ... for the man. The thought jolted him out of his attempts at daydreaming. _In love?!?_

Love. He understood it ... he loved all humans. _All_. But to love one over all ... he shivered. No. That was not the way. He could _not_ love him that way. Then he thought. In love ... a facet of loving ... perhaps ... a seed of hope was planted.

During the dinner he was stared at by Marrick, who was keeping an eye on him and Lansor, seated opposite him. Eriond this time played with Lansor, enjoying the small hisses and quick intake of breath at his daring. He smiled back at Marrick, his foot toying with Lansor under the table, pressing against his crotch and rubbing. He saw the hot looks shot his way, and felt a deep burning within, not only in his loins but in the region of his heart.

The unspoken promises primed him, and by the end of the dinner he was ready for anything that both he and Lansor would do that evening. He also did not miss the occasional black look directed towards Feldegast. He smiled within at those, enjoying the hints that Lansor perhaps cared for him more than he cared to say. 

That night was more than he could ever dreamed for, more than he could have ever imagined. They came together hot and fierce, Lansor branding him, his jealousy of Feldegast undiminished. Eriond could feel his self wrap around Lansor, and his grasp on glowing disappear. He wrapped them both in it, and neither noticed, the glow slowly dissipating as they came back down to earth. 

Afterwards, hugging his lover to him, he whispered, "I love you," not realising he was awake. He felt Lansor stiffen, and realised his blunder. Eriond cursed within, and then heard the reciprocal, "I love you, too." 

Joy bloomed in his heart, and he was inspired for another bout of slow lovemaking. This time it was sweet, an acknowledgement of the love between them. Eriond pushed aside thought of tomorrow, thoughts of what it held for him and Lansor, concentrating on the here and now.

Morning came, and he woke to an empty bed. He sighed, knowing that in the farm, it was better to be discreet so that there was no chance of problems. He _knew_ it for best, but could not help but feel a kernel of hurt at Lansor's early-morning disappearance.

Breakfast, he did not see him anywhere -- then was told by a kitchenhand that he had been sent to the nearest town for supplies. Another kitchenhand snickered that "...more likely sent to town for a wife, you know how Marrick wants to marry him off," and he felt a pang so deep it hurt him physically. 

This knowledge carried on throughout the day; the stablehands said the same thing, that this morning Marrick had, out of nowhere, appeared to decide that Lansor had to leave. He heard again and again, that Marrick was searching for a wife for Lansor, to carry on the family tradition.

The thing that he heard to set him off was "Probably saw that the new stablehand -- what's his name? yes, Eriond -- was off with his son. No children from _that_ , no. Wouldn't be surprised if that Eriond appeared dead one of these days, Marrick wants him gone."

He pressed himself against the barn wall, not wanting to believe such a thing from a man that he believed was inherently good. Then, he never was really good at seeing things that mortals hid. Eriond thought of the family, of the ... mortal, Lansor. It struck him suddenly. Eriond stayed against the wall, gasping, then shoved himself off, intending to get away from the whispers that were striking dread into his heart.

He jumped over the fence and aimed for Horse; he wanted to get away from this farm for a while, get away from the problems that were encroaching upon him. 

Up on Horse's familiar torso, he galloped off, whispering into Horse's mane. He closed his eyes, shutting out the site of the world blurring around him. He felt the cool wind against his face intensify, becoming ice-sharp, cutting into skin to the bone. He enjoyed the sensation, feeling free from the world and its troubles, temporarily free from his responsibilities to the world. 

The muscles under him rippled, and then suddenly the wind stopped. Eriond opened his eyes, and was greeted by the sight of the ocean. They were at a beach. It spread out for miles, and, from his sense of direction of the singing of the Orb, they were facing the West. 

Dismounting, he crouched and grasped a handful of sand. Rubbing it in his fingers, he enjoyed the coarse feel of it, the rasp as the granules rubbed against one another. He sighed, thinking of Lansor's clean lines and what the feel of his morning beard against his skin would be like. 

Horse's whicker made him look up. The sky was clouding over, rain beginning to fall. He stood, and raised his face to the sky. Strange that he had not felt it coming. Rain fell around him, a quiet splatter that reassured him. The peace rising within him made him think over the issues that he had, and doing so, he released his hold on glowing. He became a beacon of soft light, one that miles out to see, a sailor on fishing boat saw and wondered at.

Mortal. Mortality. The thought jolted him out of his peaceful meanderings. Eriond stared out into the grey sea, shock of realisation of Lansor's pending mortality spreading throughout his body. His knees gave way, and he sat on the wet sand. The driving force of the rain went unnoticed as he pondered.

On the return journey, Eriond occupied himself with thinking of all the reasons why he could not become attached to a mortal. He thought of the fact that Lansor would die before him -- and his heart clenched. Pain whispered through him at the thought, and his response -- _NO!_ \-- was immediate. He thought helplessly of him dying, growing old, with him, as a God, immortal and undying. Tears rose in his eyes.

Arriving back at the farm, his heart hurt, so great was his pain at the thought of losing Lansor. To bystanders, the young man looked sodden and ill. His heartbreak was clear to all, manifesting itself as sickness. He dismounted Horse and took off for his room, wanting nothing more than the comforting ambience of scented flowers and thin sheets. 

Bursting into his room, he flung himself onto the thin bed, unfamiliar sobs breaking from him. The door crashed open behind him, and Lansor appeared.

"What's wrong, Eriond?" Lansor touched his heaving back tentatively. Eriond flung himself at him and clung to his neck, weeping. His sobs wracked both their bodies. 

Lansor appeared puzzled and concerned at his heartbreak. His hand swept up Eriond's back, rubbing. His hug encompassed him, and Eriond felt their bodies' warmth tingle through him and change into something else. Something with a strong call. 

Eriond slipped his hands between their bodies, pushing to the back of his mind his doubts and his earlier resolve. He could not leave this man, no matter what. He forced away the thought of what Lansor would do once he found out his true identity. He trembled at it. Lansor mistook it for passion and sucked in his breath, grabbing at his drenched lover. He pushed him away a little.

"What happened?" Eriond looked at him mutely. "No, I know something happened. You were not crying for _nothing_."

Eriond looked at where his hand lay on Lansor's hard stomach. He lowered it experimentally, trying to get Lansor off this train of thought. A hand stopped his exploring.

"No." Lansor's face tightened. "Was it that ... troubadour," he spat. "Did he touch you?"

"No! No, he didn't," Eriond said anxiously, trying to stave off any thoughts of violence towards Beldin. "It was just ... something else. Don't worry about it."

Lansor wanted to pursue it further, then Eriond's hand became busy below his waist. Lansor gasped, face spasming. He dropped onto the bed, pulling Eriond down with him. Eriond braced himself on the wide chest under him, then kissed the lips below him. Placing all of his heart behind it, he kissed him with all the tenderness he could give to show the other man how he felt.

Soon, it was not enough. He drew away, looking into the face of his lover, at the hooded eyes and panting mouth. He swooped down again, the aggressor, feasting on his lips, crushing him against him. He delved into his mouth, tasting every corner, branding his taste indelibly on his mind. His hand roamed the acquiescent body beneath him, touching every part of it, tearing the clothing away. In turn, his lover touched him, his body springing to life at the heat that he engendered. 

He reared up, willing their remaining clothing away in frustration. Lansor's eyes were closed, not seeing that which would have given him insight into his lover's true nature. Suddenly naked, free to touch and to see what he willed, Eriond stared at the beautiful form beneath him. Tears pricked at his eyes for what he could not have. He shrugged off his unhappiness, determined to have what he had _now_ , to worry about what the future held later. 

Then Lansor's hands found him, cupped his sacks and rolled his balls around in his hands. Eriond sagged down into the practised hands that held him and moaned. Pleasure spiralled up into his head, and he lost his sense of self. He sank into the heady pleasure being dealt to him, and then he was lost. He remembered surfacing from the depths of pleasure he was in, to see his lover below him, and him pumping into the large body. At other times he surfaced and saw himself clutching at the covers, being filled with his lover's hard cock. Then he sank back into ecstasy. 

He came to again, both him and Lansor damp, him with mingled sweat and rain, Lansor with the sweat of the passing night. He remembered all, the love he had shared, and the physical pleasure that they had both experienced. Eriond looked down at the sleeping form of his lover, and pain overtook the joy in his heart. He untangled himself from the heavy limbs, and stood up next to the bed, proud in his nudity. He willed himself clothing around him, and remembering the previous morning, willed Lansor a new set. He touched his face gently, and then left. 

Outside, in the courtyard Eriond saw Marrick looking at him. He looked back curiously, wondering at the satisfaction that billowed off him in waves. Marrick smiled, a hard-edged smile with secrets behind it. 

He walked on to the stables, opening the doors and sliding between them. Within, he could hear the quiet garble of conversation in one of the stalls, but he payed them no heed. He picked up grooming tools and blanket, wanting to be out of there, wanting to be under the cool morning sun and biting air. 

Eriond skimmed past the stall, stopping when he heard the Murgo Stanic chuckling maliciously, almost happily. He tuned his ear into their conversation, mindful of the surprise, of the words that were so hurtful yesterday. 

"Yes. I wonder who is coming to do the job though. I'd like to see his corpse. He will get what is coming to him." 

"Who would have ever thought," said his companion, his voice muffled. Eriond strained to identify it. "I never picked Marrick to be one to kill someone for something like this. One never knows, do they? He sure was a sweet piece of arse, that Eriond, I"m sorry that I didn't have a go at him. When did you say the assassin was coming?" 

Eriond weakened at hearing his name, at knowing that Marrick wanted him gone so much that he would attempt to have him killed. Somehow, he got outside, grooming equipment forgotten in his hands. He saw some of the looks aimed his way by the residents, some pitying, some curious. 

He gasped, feeling his heart tear at the realisation that the best he could do not to alienate Lansor from his father was to leave. _He would die shortly anyhow_ , he thought. _I would not have the time with him that I want. Best that I leave him to marry, to have children of his own._

He searched the grounds for Beldin, misery painted on his face. He was not hard to find, dozing near the larder with tankard in hand. 

__

Beldin, he called. 

Beldin snorted, then looked up at the face above him. _What's wrong?_ Concern seeped through his question. _You look like someone killed ..._ Beldin gasped audibly. "Eriond?" He looked around. _Where is Lansor? What happened?_

Eriond sobbed, fresh tears appearing. _I have to leave._

__

Why? What happened?

I have to leave NOW! Eriond thought at him, on the verge of hysteria. 

__

Fine, let me just get my things, thought Beldin at him warily. 

Eriond spun around and left him, running for Horse. He jumped over the fence, hiding the tears that threatened to spill. Mounting him, he rode to the front gate and waited. Beldin was not long in coming, plodding along in his rickety old cart.

Hours later, Beldin had changed back into his short, ugly, wizened form, but had not changed the concerned looks he was shooting at Eriond. 

"You know," Beldin ventured after a short while, none of his crude mannerisms in observance, "he's going to think that we ran off together."

The pain-filled, agonised look that Eriond gave him shut him up, and then Eriond swung Horse around and took off. Eriond no longer felt like crying, the desire to weep replaced by a hollow feeling within him. He urged Horse onto the capital, to stay at the palace with Zakath and Cyradis. 

He would have to avoid them, to avoid their prying looks and concerned faces, for he was sure that Beldin would not be long in telling them of Lansor. 

He was there soon, the high, white, shining walls blurring past him as Horse took him through the gates and up into the palace. A stableboy took Horse, eyeing the bedraggled form of the God, not recognising him or his famed horse. He stumbled blindly into the palace, and made his way to the throne room, unconsciously rendering himself invisible to the courtiers and guards who would have stopped his way. 

Inside the throne room, his eyes fastened on Cyradis, the seer whose choice had made him God of Angarak. The courtiers began to see him now, but then he was there, and he saw Cyradis' eyes widen in recognition and shock. 

She broke away from the group she was with, and grasped his arm to guide him out of the room. She took him in silence to a private sitting room, and shut the door behind them, ignoring the curious looks of nobles and servants alike along the way.

As the door pressed shut, she pressed herself against it and looked at him. She gave a low cry.

"Eriond, what is the matter?" He looked at her, then bespoke her. _I would not speak of it, Cyradis. Please do not ask. It is a private matter with no bearing on my position as God._

Cyradis looked at him, shock showing on her face at his firm rebuff. He had not behaved in such a way towards her before. _Yes, as you wish, Eriond._

She glanced around, then back at Eriond. "Do you wish to stay with us? The room that you have used previously still awaits you. I can show you the way." Eriond nodded in reply. 

In the familiar room, he looked around, at the wide, empty bed. He clenched his heart against the pain that was recurring. No. He would not venture down that path. 

* * *

Soon, he saw that the Guardian's family was congregating in Mallorea. First, Beldin appeared, bringing Vella along, and then Belgarath and Poledra, then Polgara and Durnik with their children, and then Belgarion ... and the rest of Aldur's disciples. He did not notice their arrivals, having been making his presence known furiously with the help of Pelath. Soon, he no longer really noticed the small, hardened portion of his heart, and his visage was known throughout the city, spreading throughout the rest of Mallorea. 

As soon as he saw the disciples together, he knew that they had heard of his time with Lansor and his reaction when he left him. He saw Beldin there, and glared at the man. _I will get you for this, Beldin. You ought not have told them_. 

The rest of the party heard, and Beldin shrank behind them. Belgarath looked at him sternly, for all that he was a God. 

"You have been having troubles, Eriond, and you have not sought out your brothers? They are sorely hurt that you haven't taken that step. Aldur asked us to come here."

Eriond stopped at that, then whispered fiercely, "It has nothing to do with you! Leave me alone, go back to the West. It has no import to you." Then he left them there, concerned faces tearing into the barriers that he had erected in his pain. He ignored that they said his brother Aldur had sent them, ignored that his brothers wanted him to see them in his time of troubles. He ignored everything but his determination to forget Lansor, to give him his life as a mortal without the burden of loving a God.

When they left, precisely, he did not notice either, only that they no longer attempted to corner him and ask what precisely had happened. He thought it a little odd that they all disappeared at the same time, then thought no more of it. 

Forcing him to push behind the meaning of their presence, he poured himself into making his wishes known, and to wipe out the legacy of terror that Torak had left. He achieved more in that year than in the nearly two decades since his appointment as God. 

He came to his rooms in the palace, and then left, making appearances around the countryside, expanding himself to the surrounding regions and then, little by little, over in the Western parts of his dominion. 

There was fear, and there was terror on behalf of the populace at first, that another God was taking them again. 

The Grolims garments he changed, the black becoming white worldwide, and then he set Pelath towards finding him disciples. He found one, Saern, and then taught him a little at a time, to recreate the Grolim system, but this time to service the people, not to service themselves. He created groups that learned healing, that learnt teaching, that learnt about giving to those less fortunate than themselves, and to harness the powers that they were given as Grolims. 

He was immersed in his work.

Then, one day, Aldur appeared, pale blue nimbus shining. 

"Eriond."

They passed mutual courtesies, Eriond wondering why he had come now. 

"Brother, one of my disciples will be coming to pay you a visit. He wishes to learn beneath you." 

Eriond looked at him quizzically. "Which one, Aldur? They would be most welcome to study under me ... though I feel you are a better teacher by far."

Aldur smiled faintly, gently, and said, "I am glad to hear that Eriond, he is coming soon," and with those words, left.

Eriond looked at the spot where he had been, the wall behind grey and still. He sighed, thinking of Aldur's disciples, wondering why it was so important that Aldur would come himself. He would know soon enough.

A week later, in his room once again in the palace, Eriond was thinking on how to introduce a system of writing and learning for all clerics, for them to learn a uniform writing so as to not make things illegible from one country to the next. 

A knock on the door interrupted his line of thought. A shy head peeped in, awe plain on her face for all to see. "Your Divinityship? A man here to see you, a disciple of the God Aldur," her voice ended on a revering note. 

Eriond smiled at the girl, thinking, _Poor child, to be so in awe_. "Please, show him in." 

He turned away, wondering what he could possibly teach to any of them -- they had had Belgarath around for millennia; his expertise was enormous. Hearing the door shut, he turned back to greet the disciple, warily, to see whether he (whomever it was) was still going to pry into last year's events. 

He gasped at the sight of his visitor, shock making his legs unstable. He tottered, falling back onto a chair behind him.

His eyes ate hungrily at his visitor's form, taking everything in, taking in the amulet that all of Aldur's disciples wore. 

"Lansor," he managed. _How did he become one of his disciples?_ he wondered. _The others meddling, no doubt_ , he concluded swiftly. 

Lansor stood there, his own eyes taking in Eriond, the nimbus that surrounded him. 

"Eriond," he said, his voice tinged with anger. Eriond looked at his eyes, and saw there a hurt and anger that had obviously been festering since he had left. He put out an imploring hand, then pulled it back.

"I did not realise that you had a talent for the Will and the Word," said Eriond, taking up on the easiest subject to broach so that he would not have to deal with the love still welling within him.

Lansor did not answer, his eyes still on him. "Why?" he asked rawly. "Why did you leave? I thought you loved me!" 

Eriond could not help but answer the pain in Lansor's voice. "I did ... I do ... that's why I had to leave. You have ... had ... a life as a mortal, and I could not ask you to take up with me. I am a _God_ , Lansor, and I did not know what your reaction would be!" his voice ended on a wail. 

Lansor took a step forwards, then his face hardened. "You did not give me that chance, you did not give _us_ that chance! You made a decision and you did not let me have a say in it."

Eriond flung up a hand, an interruption. "You would die, Lansor -- you would have died. I would have had to watch you grow old, dying, beside me ... I could _not_ handle that, I could _not_. I could not ask you to stay beside me, knowing ..." his voice broke, and tears slid down his face. "Aldur ..." he paused, "Aldur made you a disciple. Why?"

Lansor appeared angry at his question. " _Why?_ Because he knew I wanted you, knew I loved you. He knew that you love me. He wanted what was best for us, and he did what he could. He said that you would teach me that which I need to know, but that this would give us a chance beyond a brief span of time. He said ..." Lansor stopped, began again, "Belgarath has lived millennia, why couldn't I? All I want is you, and if this is what I need to do to have you, then this is what I will take."

Face shining in joy, the nimbus around him brightening in response. Then, face twisted in confusion, he asked, "But, the Talent. I did not sense it in you. _How?_ "

"I do have some, or so Belgarion said. But it is little, and needs much training ..." Lansor stopped midexplanation.

He took a step towards Eriond, and then grabbed him. The force of his passion was stronger than ever, strong in its love and in his anger and hurt. 

He kissed Eriond, pressing himself against him, and Eriond responded with all that was in his heart. He felt that part of him that had died in Lansor's absence reawaken, a promise that all would be well. 

Pulling away, Lansor looked at his love's face, at the nimbus around him. He framed Eriond's face in his hand, and said, "I love you, Eriond. I want to stay by your side. Will you let me?" Lansor waited for an answer. 

Eriond smiled in joy and said, "Would I, could I, ever say no? I love you, and I will show you for eternity how much I do."

**Author's Note:**

> The very first fanfic that I wrote (in the late 1999s?), and was not betaed. You can tell how old I was when I wrote this ...


End file.
